


INTERLUDE I: The Real Reason Charlie Acts Out in School

by beaches_at_treasure_island



Series: Love Will Outlast Us [2]
Category: Santa Clause (Movies)
Genre: Cutting, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenage Drama, between first and second film, explains charlie's behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaches_at_treasure_island/pseuds/beaches_at_treasure_island
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what happened between the first film and the second, prior to the first fic in the series</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

When Charlie had returned home to his mother at the end of the summer after his thirteenth birthday, he had been both happy and yet somehow saddened by his return. He was happy to see his mom and Lucy again, but he missed Bernard and his father. He was heading into eighth grade in September, and sure he was excited, but the only person he wanted to talk to about it was Bernard.

As the weeks flew by, Charlie constantly asked his mom and Neal when he would be allowed to visit the North Pole again. Each time, they talked their way around the subject, not giving the teen a straight answer. When December rolled around, Charlie went to them and asked again.

“Mom, Neal, when can I go to the North Pole? You didn’t let me go for Thanksgiving or any of the long weekends. Will I be able to go after Christmas, like I usually do?” Charlie asked.

“Well, about that...” His mom said. She elbowed Neal and hissed, “You tell him.”

“Well, Charlie, your mom and I were thinking that you really shouldn’t be spending so much time up in the North Pole. It just isn’t normal for a boy your age to still be so obsessed with things like Santa. We know that your dad is Santa, but still. You don’t have any friends that we know of. You don’t invite anyone over or go anywhere outside of school anymore.” Neal sighed. “Look, maybe it’s best that you only see your father when he comes down to visit.”

“But what about B-Bernard? And Judy?” Charlie sniffed. “And Lillian? And Curtis and Jacob and Hannah? I don’t need any friends here because I have the best friends I’ll ever need already, but they’re at the North Pole and YOU WON’T LET ME SEE THEM!” Charlie screamed, then ran from the room up to his bedroom, slamming the door in his wake.

“Well, he is a teenager, now,” Neal said unhelpfully.

..........

On Christmas Eve, after Laura and Neal had retired to their bed, Charlie had snuck down to wait for his dad on the couch. He was so intent on going to the North Pole that he dare not fall asleep. Around two am on Christmas morning, Santa popped out of the fireplace.

“Dad!” Charlie said, dropping his book and rushing over to hug his father.

“Hey, sport. I thought you’d be in bed. You know I come back to pick you up at the end of the trip.”

“Dad, mom and Neal won’t let me go. They said that I could only see you when you come to visit and that it’s not healthy for me to only have best friends who are elves. They said I’m not normal.” Charlie muttered into his dad’s red velvet coat.

“What? What’s wrong with friends who are elves? And besides, Charlie, I’m not normal either. I am Santa Claus, after all. Look, why don’t you go get Neal and Laura while I set out the presents and we can talk for a few minutes.” Scott let go of Charlie, who rushed off upstairs to collect his guardians.

When the three returned, Scott was sitting and drinking the milk that Lucy had left beside slightly misshapen chocolate chip cookies. “Scott, Charlie said we needed to talk?” Laura asked.

“Yes. Why can’t Charlie come to the North Pole later?” Scott said, setting down the glass.

“Because, I, we don’t think Charlie should be isolated from society. It’s not good for a growing boy to be around...elves.” Laura replied.

“That sounds like Neal’s words coming from your mouth,” Scott said with not a small bit of irritation.

“So what if they are? Psychological research shows that children and teens isolated from social interactions have a hard time fitting in later in life, and a harder time finding a job, as well as a higher likelihood of ending up in prison,” Neal voiced his opinion, not that Scott wanted it.

“And, since I have majority custody, as well as supervisory rights and the ability to withhold your visitation rights, I say that Charlie stays here. He is not going to the North Pole, and that’s final.” Laura finished.

Charlie sat beside his dad, sobbing into the man’s chest. “Please, dad, I want to see Bernard. And Lillian. And Judy.”

“I’m sorry, sport, but if I take you with me, your mom can make it so I can never see you again. Until she says you can visit, I’ll just have to come see you. Unfortunately, the elves have to stay in the North Pole, Bernard especially, if I’m visiting you.” Scott rubbed his son’s back soothing, glaring over the boy’s head at Laura and Neal. “But I promise, as soon as everything is ship-shape up north, I’ll come and visit, alright?”

“’Kay, dad.”

“Now, go on up to bed. Don’t want Lucy to know you were waiting up all night without her.” Scott hugged his son goodnight one last time, and Charlie headed off for bed.

Neal and Laura were set to follow but Scott asked them to hold on. “What’s the real problem, Laura? You only spout Neal’s nonsense when you’re hiding your real thoughts.”

“One of your elves, Curtis? He paid us a visit back in September, when the kids were out. He told us he’d been reading some sort of handbook, like a guide to Santa, and he found something interesting about Santa’s children. The book says that if Santa’s children spent too long in the North Pole that eventually they become elves themselves.” Laura shook her head. “Charlie is not becoming an elf, Scott.”

“Spending a less than six weeks at a time in the Pole won’t do anything to him, Laura,” Scott expressed.

“Yeah, then why is he the shortest boy in his grade, and almost the shortest kid. There are two girls shorter than him. And most of the girls are pretty small. His ears are getting pointier - they’re not as round as they used to be. He looks a lot like he did a year ago, Scott, and I’m guessing he’s starting to become an elf,” Laura complained.

“Look, we’ll talk about this when I visit, okay? Kind of busy now.” And with that, Scott took off up the chimney and flew away in his reindeer-drawn sleigh.

After that, Charlie didn’t talk to Neal or his mother for months unless absolutely necessary. Once all the post-Christmas stuff was taken care of at the North Pole, Scott came down to visit and hear the entire story. There was a lot of arguing but in the end, Laura wouldn’t budge, and Neal supported her. Charlie was heartbroken and Scott right alongside him.


	2. Part Two

Slowly, Charlie’s grades began dropping until he was barely passing most of his classes. He spent most of his time staring at the Workshop in the snow globe that Bernard had given to him that first real Christmas trip. Back then, Charlie had wondered why Bernard would give him something so precious but last summer that question had been answered. He was Bernard’s mate. The thought warmed him up whenever he felt blue. Charlie knew Bernard wouldn’t be happy that Charlie was slacking in school but the boy had no motivation anymore. He barely slept or ate, daydreamed in school, and when he was home, Charlie ignored his homework and just gazed into his almost-crystal ball.

Charlie graduated middle school at the bottom of his class. He only felt apathy, not even wanting to attend the ceremony. However, his dad was coming so he forced himself to muddle through. Lately, Charlie’s dad had been visiting a lot. Charlie had overheard Neal saying to his mom that Charlie was probably just depressed because he didn’t get to see his father enough. However, Neal was wrong and Scott’s presence hadn’t helped.

When Charlie lined up on the stage, facing the crowd of parents, relatives and friends, he spotted his group. There was Neal, Lucy and Laura, and then Scott. And beside Scott sat a small girl. Anyone else might have placed the child as Charlie’s sister, or maybe Scott’s granddaughter, but Charlie knew her immediately as one of his best friends – Judy. When his name was called, he crossed the stage and received his diploma like all the others before him, and waited for his photo to be taken. As it was, he glanced over at Judy, sat beside his father, and for the first time in nearly a year, gave a real smile.

That evening, the entire smorgasbord family went out to dinner at Denny’s – Charlie’s choice. He remembered that Christmas dinner he spent at Denny’s with his dad, the year he became Santa. Apparently so did his father, who grinned and winked at him when Charlie stated the restaurant of his choice.

Charlie sat between Judy and his dad, with Lucy between Neal and Laura on the other side of the table. He spent most of the meal talking with Judy about what had stopped him from visiting the Workshop for the past year and asking after all his friends up there.

“Well, Lillian is doing well in Wrapping. I’m so proud of her – Bernard just promoted her a level. That’s two times in the past decade, a record. And last week, she proposed,” Judy sighed happily. She showed Charlie the ring her mate had given her with pride.

“Proposed?” Neal asked. “You’re what? Ten, maybe twelve?”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Laura asked, only hearing Neal’s response.

“Actually I’m over twelve hundred,” Judy corrected, “Though it’s not proper to ask a lady her age. And my mate is a female, Lillian.” Ignoring Laura and Neal’s stuttering in the background, she turned back to Charlie. “We’ve decided on a New Year’s Eve ceremony. Of course, everything is quite busy that time of year, but we think it will be quite worth it. Lillian told me to make sure you promised to come.”

Charlie turned excitedly to his mother. “Oh, please, Mom, can I?”

“We’ve already talked about this. You aren’t allowed to visit the North Pole anymore,” Laura hissed, glancing around as if someone might overhear in the loud and crowded room. Then she turned away to talk to Neal.

“What’s her problem with the North Pole?” Judy asked with a furrowed brow.

“Neal says it’s bad for a teenager to grow up away from society and my mom listens to what he says so she won’t let me go. Dad’s tried everything, but mom pulled the ‘I can take your son away from you’ card. But I think Mom has another reason for not letting me go – she just won’t say what.” Charlie explained. “Anyways, tell me about everyone else. Curtis, Hannah and Jacob – how are they? And is Bernard still overworking himself?” The teen subtly worked in his mate’s name.

“Well, Curtis is still a stickler for the rules, especially after that one incident...” Judy began.

..........

That evening, after Scott and Judy had left to return to the North Pole, Charlie cried himself to sleep.

..........

Over the summer, Charlie began spending more time out around town. Of course, the suburbs of Illinois were pretty lame, but it got his mom and Neal off his back. Mostly, he spent his time hiding in the playground outside the Rec Center, reading books about fairy tales, trying to figure out which were real and which weren’t.

One day, a few days before his fourteenth birthday, he heard a group of teenaged boys out in the parking lot. Nobody else was around, and he watched from the open slits in the plastic tube to see what they were doing. Then came the hissing sounds of a spray paint can being used and he watched as the teens graffitied the cinder-block walls.

Charlie had never really paid attention to the finesse that went into artwork, not just graffiti, but all art. The next day he used some of his allowance and bought some drawing pads and pencils and started sketching. He took to it like a duck to water.

The first finished black-and-white drawing Charlie had was of Bernard, Judy, Lillian, Charlie, Curtis, Hannah and Jacob, all piled on and in front of the large couch in Bernard’s office, chatting and laughing while drinking Judy’s best cocoa and eating Jacob’s newest cookie concoction. Neal and Laura framed it for him and hung it in the living room with pride.

Soon after, they began buying him art supplies out of the blue. Charlie supposed they had noticed his change in demeanor after he began drawing. He didn’t feel so depressed now that he had pictures with his friends’ faces on them.

Shortly after his birthday, Neal popped his head into Charlie’s room and asked him if he wanted to go to the specialty art supply store in town, and Charlie had been more than excited to go. Neal told him they would get whatever Charlie wanted, within reason. Charlie made a bee line for the canvases and oil pastels. He knew exactly what his next project would be.

This portrait was hung with great care and ceremony on the wall across from Charlie’s bed. It was an image that Charlie treasured, the moment that he had realized he was in love with Bernard. The portrait showed that it was late, the artificial winter sun gone for the night, with only firelight and lamps to shed brightness at such a time. The flames from the fireplace grazed and rippled over Bernard’s intense face as he listened closely to another elf, though the only person shown was Bernard himself. The firelight glinted off the elf’s russet colored eyes and the silver pin on his beret, the golden necklace strung around his neck, the shiny embroidery in his tunic, and the curly bistre hair springing from the lip of his black beret. His normally wide, rounded eyes were narrowed in concentration and Bernard’s pearly white teeth peeked out to pull at his apricot colored lower lip.

To Charlie, it was the best thing he had ever laid eyes on.


	3. Part Three

And so, without any real fanfare, besides his mom crying, Charlie began high school. School got harder, or it would have if Charlie actually did more than the minimum amount of work to pass. He had promised Bernard that he would graduate, and to graduate he needed to pass his classes, but he never promised good grades. He continued to mostly pass his days in apathetic disinterest, except when he was drawing or painting.

His favorite class, the only one he put any true effort into, was art. Charlie excelled in that class, drawing what anyone who wasn’t in the know would think of as fanciful. Long pen strokes and quick scribbles of pencil formed wonderful greyscale sketches of what Charlie knew to be Bernard’s office. Sometimes he would paint acrylics of the Workshop, inside and out. And once, he created a sculpture of the entire North Pole village, with little elves meandering through the cobblestone-and-snow roads and reindeer in the “sky”, held there by wire. Bernard and the others in their little close knit group of friends were gathered on the balcony overlooking the clearing where Santa was playing tinsel football with the elves. If one looked closely, nearly every piece that had Bernard also had Charlie.

Charlie won awards for his work, and began gathering scholarships – not that he planned on going to college. But maybe, one day he could attend art school. He had so much to learn, and maybe he could find other ways to portray his far away home – his far away mate.

..........

Christmas came back all too soon, yet not soon enough. Neal and Laura still wouldn’t let Charlie visit the Workshop, not even for a few days. Charlie didn’t wait up that night. What was the point in seeing his father if he couldn’t see Bernard and their friends too? The only Christmas present he wanted was to go home.

In the wee hours of the morning, Scott crept into Charlie’s room and woke his son. Charlie turned on his lamp.

“Dad? What are you doing?” Charlie yawned and stretched as he sat up to look properly at his dad, all dressed up in his Santa gear.

“Now, I know you want to go to the North Pole, but Laura is still saying no. However, she did give me permission to take you along on the rest of my Christmas journey. If you want to, that is?” Scott asked.

“Really?” Charlie grinned. It may not have been the North Pole, but this was a pretty awesome present. At least he could see the reindeer again, and the sleigh. He could eat Jacob’s cookies, and drink Judy’s cocoa, and imagine he was with his chosen family. “Let me get dressed!”

In no time at all, Charlie had pulled on jeans under sweatpants, and wore a long sleeved shirt under his warm, elf-made coat from two years ago. It was starting to get a little small and Charlie was hoping that he wouldn’t out-grow it before he could get to the Pole again and help make another. His dad asked him if he was ready and Charlie grabbed a sketchpad and a few charcoal pencils off his desk, shoving them in his pocket.

“I’m ready now, Dad,” Charlie told him.

Scott glanced down at the notebook. “Yeah, your mom told me you were getting into art.”

“Yeah.” Charlie gestured to the oil pastel portrait on the wall. “I think that’s the best piece I’ve done.”

His dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, sport, that’s...that’s spot on. I don’t think it could be more realistic if you took a picture of Bernard!”

Charlie blushed. “It’s nothing, really.” He didn’t want to give too much away. He was unsure how his father would take his feelings towards Bernard. Charlie was certain, however, that Neal and his mom would not be happy with it at all.

Scott shrugged and the father and son went down to the fireplace before taking the chimney up to the roof. Charlie smiled when he saw the reindeer, the sleigh, part of the North Pole’s magical presence perched on the roof of his house.

Charlie climbed into the sleigh after his father. He forgot how wonderful it was to sit in the sleigh, seeing the reindeer. Then Santa called on his reindeer and they took off, flying into the night sky. Charlie grinned. This was the best Christmas since his mom had stopped letting him visit the Workshop.

Each time Scott stopped on a rooftop, Charlie took the time to draw. At the end of the night, as Scott dropped Charlie back at Laura and Neal’s house, the teen handed his father a drawing of them in the reindeer-drawn sleigh, flying across the sky, a silhouette against the moon.

..........

The rest of freshman year went pretty quickly. One of the older art kids had seen his artwork, and instead of making fun of his selection of elves and Santa, invited him to join the art kids at lunch. Most of the time, they would sit silently under the bleachers, drawing and such. But one day, Kain – the boy who had invited him to the group – passed around something rolled up like a cigarette, but sweeter smelling.

“Hey, Charlie, wanna hit?” One of the others, Brit, called, holding up the joint.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, cocking his head as he looked at her.

“What is it, he asks?” The girl chuckled. “Mary-Jane, the goddess of artistic heaven,” she said.

“Huh?” His brow furrowed.

“It’s pot. You smoke it, you get high,” Kain explained. "It's fun to make art while high."

“Uh, well... I guess.” Charlie shrugged, leaning over Kain in their weird pile to grab the joint from Brit.

He put the tip to his lips and sucked in air and smoke like he had seen adults do with cigarettes. He attempted to hold it in his lungs for a moment, his eyes watering, but he started coughing at the burning feeling his lungs felt from the smoke.

Kain laughed and rubbed the younger teen’s back. “First time, huh?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So nothing. We all had a first time. Most of us choked too.” Kain laughed again. “It gets better. Try it again.”

Charlie did, and after a third and then a fourth time, it barely bothered him at all. His head grew fuzzy and for the first time in nearly two years, he didn’t feel any of the despair he had from missing Bernard. He still longed for the elf, yes, but it didn’t hurt, didn’t ache.

He sat up with a small smile from where he had reclined in Kain’s lap. “Damn, that feels great,” he murmured.

“Yeah, it does, doesn't it?” Kain replied lazily.

From a distance, Charlie heard the school bell ring, signaling the end of lunch, but none of the other art kids got up. So he shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time he skipped class.


	4. Part Four

After he discovered marijuana, Charlie barely scraped by in school. His teachers noted his absence more often than not, and when he did attend, he was spaced out or asleep on the desk. Two weeks before spring finals, Principal Newman called Charlie, his parents and Neal into her office. Scott had been taken from the North Pole, and none of them knew why Charlie was in trouble.

“Charlie,” Principal Newman began. “I’m sure you know why you’re here. Why don’t you tell your parents?”

Watching his hands, Charlie muttered, “I don’t know?”

“Come on, Charlie,” Laura said. “What did you do?”

Charlie refused to look up at his mom, and definitely avoided facing his father. He shrugged.

“Charlie has been missing more than half of his classes. His teachers have stated that when he does attend, he is either asleep or daydreaming. He rarely turns in homework. He only does the bare minimum. In fact, I must inform you that Charlie is riding a fine line between passing and failing in all of his classes but art. Art is the only class he shows up to every day, and the only one he does all the work for.” Principal Newman informed his family.

“Charlie!” Laura shrieked. “You told me you were doing well in school.”

“Yeah, well enough to pass,” he said. “I just have to pass all my classes to graduate. I only promised Bernard I would graduate; I never told him I’d do well.”

“Bernard?” Neal, Laura and the principal asked.

“One of my...friends, from work,” Scott said. All three sets of eyebrows shot up.

“Why did you promise him that, Charlie?” Neal asked. Charlie shrugged again.

“Look, Principal Newman, all I’m here to do is graduate. I don’t care if my grades are good as long as I pass. It’s not like I’m attending college. I want to go into the family business,” Charlie stated, eyes flicking over towards Scott. “I don’t need a degree for that.”

After that, Charlie tuned out the rest of the meeting, ignoring everyone. In the car on the way to the Miller house, Scott spoke with his son while Neal and Laura argued in the front seats.

“I never knew you were so close with Bernard, sport,” his dad said. “I mean, I knew you were friends, but...is he your best friend?”

“They’re all my best friends. Bernard, Judy, Curtis, Lillian, Hannah and Jacob. I miss them so much, dad.” Charlie revealed, hunching in on himself. “All the drawings in the world couldn’t replace them. I know, I’ve tried.”

“I’ll try to get them to let you come this summer. Who knows, maybe they’ll finally let you go?” Scott said without hope.

The results of that conversation were explosive.

“I DON’T WANT MY SON AROUND THOSE ELVES, SCOTT! WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS! AND ESPECIALLY THAT BERNARD CHARACTER! WHO KNOWS WHAT HE’S BEEN SAYING TO MY SON!” Laura screamed at her ex-husband.

“Now, Laura, Bernard’s a good guy. He loves Charlie,” Scott told her.

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’M AFRAID OF, SCOTT! WHAT IF HE’S SOME SORT OF PEDOPHILE!”

“Laura, really? Look, elves have mates. I’m sure that Bernard’s mate is not Charlie. They’re just good friends. I mean, Charlie’s only fourteen – almost fifteen. Bernard is...well, at least a few thousand. I’m not sure exactly how old he is...” Scott hummed.

“Unlike most of the other elves, dad, Bernard didn’t grow up in the North Pole. He’s way older than the earlier known origins of Santa Claus, Father Christmas, etcetera. He never gave me an exact answer, but from what I’ve heard, he’s over five thousand years old,” Charlie divulged.

“Five THOUSAND!” Laura yelled.

“Mo-”

“No, Charlie. You are not going up north this year, or any time I can think of for a while. Maybe once you’re eighteen.” Laura commanded.

“But mom, I’ll be tall then. I don’t want to be taller than Bernard... I heard you and Neal talking about what Curtis found out. Why can’t I be an elf? I don’t like being here. I miss my home,” Charlie revealed his thoughts on the matter.

“Your home? This is your home Charlie! You are not an elf, you are a teenage boy,” Laura scoffed before turning to Scott. “This whole thing is your fault, Scott. You filled his head with nonsense and now he wants to be an elf and ‘go into the family business’ instead of being smart and going to college.”

“College isn’t everything, Mom! I miss my friends and my home and I’ll never be happy here!” Charlie shouted, tears welling up.

“Well, you aren’t going, and that’s final!”

Charlie ran up to his room and locked the door behind him. He sat on the floor and leaned against his footboard, staring at the portrait of Bernard and crying. He would never be able to see his mate again. He felt his heart shatter as he looked away. It hurt too much to see Bernard’s face.

Charlie started to get up to take the portrait down. He would hide it in his closet until he could bear to see his love’s face again. As he put a hand on the floor to stand, it bumped into his Swiss Army knife, the one he got for whittling when he was a Cub Scout.

A thought occurred to him. Maybe it would hurt less inside if it hurt more outside. Charlie flicked open the larger, sharper blade and rolled up one of his sleeves. He took a deep breath and pressed the knife to the skin of his wrist and pulled, dragging the blade over his skin.

Charlie hissed as blood welled up from the cut, but he had been right. It hurt less when he cut himself. So he made another cut, and another, until he had seven or eight bleeding cuts on his arm. He grabbed a few tissues and blotted away the blood as it oozed, then used a fresh one to wipe away his tears.

Charlie stood and dropped the wad of tissue into his garbage can and lay down on his bed, pressing another tissue into the cuts to stop the bleeding for now. Exhausted emotionally, he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daaaaamn, I'm just banging these out, aren't I? IDK how long that will last, but enjoy it while it does haha :D  
> Some of this chapter - the depression - comes from my experiences. I've never actually cut... Well, once, but I didn't like how it felt, and I could barely make myself press the blade hard enough to draw blood.  
> Also, about the prior chapter, I don't actually know anything about marijuana except what I've heard and seen from my friends, tv, and medical websites.  
> Anyways, enjoy, all seventeen or so of you Bernard/Charlie shippers, and anyone else who stumbles onto this fic. :)

Charlie began wearing more long sleeves, even as the days grew hotter and the summer began. He continued to smoke pot with his...friends, if he could call him that. The people he hung out with noticed that he wore long sleeves a lot but never mentioned it.

Sophomore year passed by in a blink of an eye, with similar results to the year before, where Charlie barely passed anything other than art. He continued hanging out with the same crowd as last year. The following summer, Charlie was introduced to alcohol and added it to his repertoire of bad habits. None of the authority figures in his life had any clue what was going on with him, drugs, alcohol, cutting and all. But that was soon to change.

One day, the teenagers weren’t being careful enough, too high and drunk to pay much attention to their surroundings, and a cop pulled up. Charlie was one of the few too slow, and too drunk, to run away. Laura and Neal were called down to pick him up at the station. No charges were pressed, thankfully, and the police let Charlie off with a warning. His mom and Neal weren’t so forgiving.

He was grounded for the rest of the summer and given extra no-pay chores to complete around the house while they were out at work. They pulled Lucy out of daycare, also, and told Charlie to watch her so they wouldn’t have to pay for childcare.

Charlie took this as his chance to get closer to his sister. However, she was almost six and still young – she only really talked about princesses and fairies, and while Charlie wasn’t adverse to those topics, he also didn’t wish to spend all his time discussing them. Charlie spent most of his time “watching her” by sitting her in front of the television after feeding her mac’n’cheese and chocolate milk, and if she was especially well behaved, a cookie or two.

After he set her down for a nap, he normally went into his room to re-center himself for a while. He would pull out the knife, make a few cuts, clean up and take a nap himself. He and his sister would usually be woken by either Laura or Neal arriving home for the evening.

But one time, he cut too deep. Charlie had hoped that maybe if he pressed harder, he would stop hurting inside fully. But he cut too deep and the blood wouldn’t stop coming out, even though he pressed tissues hard against the cut. There was just too much blood. Slowly, he began feeling tired, then dizzy as he blacked out.

..........

Something was shaking him, and Charlie thought he heard someone call his name. The shaking got more and more intense and Charlie tried to open his eyes. They felt so heavy, like they had weights pressing on them. Finally, they opened and he stared fuzzily up at his mom.

“M-mom?” Charlie rasped.

Laura hugged her son tightly, crying. The thudding sound of shoes on the stairs became apparent just before two men came into Charlie’s room, holding a stretcher and a bag.

They were EMTs and they pulled Charlie from his mother’s arms to lie on the stretcher before checking his wrists. They were still bleeding, albeit sluggishly now, and they field-dressed the wounds before carrying the teen down to the ambulance. They hung a pint of blood and inserted the needle into Charlie’s left arm, the one without incisions.

Laura got into the ambulance with Charlie, leaving Neal and Lucy to follow in the minivan as they took off for the hospital.

..........

Charlie spent seventy two hours under suicide watch, constantly being monitored and interviewed by doctors and nurses. He tried telling them that he hadn’t been trying to kill himself. The only professional who listened to Charlie was the psychiatrist.

“Why did you self-harm, Charlie?” was the doctor’s first question. She didn’t ask why he tried to kill himself like the others had.

“I...I thought it would stop me from hurting inside. And it does. When I cut, it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It feels better, in here,” Charlie told the lady, pointing at his chest, his heart.

“When did you first feel like this?”

“When my mom told me that I couldn’t go visit my dad anymore. All my friends live there, and that’s my home, but she said that I can’t go anymore. She said that if I want to see my dad, he can visit, but she doesn’t want me going up to visit him. She said it’s isolating me from society and it’s not healthy but I think she’s just spouting Neal’s words. My mom’s hiding something. And it’s hurting me.” Charlie drew his legs up onto the armchair, slippers sitting on the floor, and hid his face in his knees as he sniffled.

They spoke for a while longer before the psychiatrist told Charlie that she would suggest to the nurses on the ward that Charlie was not at risk for suicide and could have looser restrictions.

Before Charlie was discharged from the hospital, Neal, Laura and Scott (who had, yet again, come down because Laura beckoned him) were taken aside by the psychiatrist.

“Charlie is having trouble coping. I can’t force you to do what needs to be done to help him but I can tell you that he could get worse, fast. Your son’s depression is caused by separation from his home. Charlie says that Mr. Calvin’s residence is his home, and all his real friends are there. I recommend he spends time there as soon as possible.” She told the trio.

“No,” Laura said, “I have full rights and custody and my son isn’t going up there.”

“Well, you’ll have to be prepared for the next time this incident is repeated. Charlie doesn’t want to kill himself, but when he cuts, he expects that the harder and deeper the blade presses, the more his pain will disappear.” The woman sighed and added, “Look, all I’m saying is that if you care about Charlie’s wellbeing, you will do what’s best for him, not for yourself. Now, I’ve prescribed an antidepressant for Charlie, one pill a day for three weeks, and two more refills. At the end of those nine weeks, I have scheduled a check in with him, to see how he is progressing.”

Scott and Neal thanked the woman, Neal getting her card and promising to stay in touch. Laura was silent as they left. On the ride home, Neal pulled through a McDonald’s drive thru and got Charlie a Big Mac, his favorite.

Scott spent the night on the couch, watching television shows with Charlie while Laura and Neal argued up in their bedroom. Charlie’s dad didn’t push, and it made Charlie feel just a little bit better.

 


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I've been hopping in and out of various other fandoms for awhile.
> 
> I don't know how much of this will be written before I run out of steam for the time being, but I think I might have one more Interlude I chapter, plus the first chapter or two for Interlude II (which will be Bernard's POV on TSC2), and maybe even another Alphabet Soup chapter - hint: It's titled, "B is for Busted, Betrothed".
> 
> For this chapter, it's taking the place of the scene with Danielle (the girl Charlie was with) and the wall tag IN the gymnasium. With the people Charlie hangs around with, I don't think he and Danielle would be close in any way, and he wouldn't be dating her or anything because he still misses Bernard. (Of course - I miss him too, lol)
> 
> Also, the they/them pronouns are not typos. Vaughn is nonbinary (like me), and uses they/them pronouns instead of he/him, she/her, xe/xim, etc. I wanted to add some diversity, and also a character that I could relate to other than Charlie. If you guys want to see a certain type of character in this series, please let me know and I'll do my best to add said character. :)
> 
> \--- So without further ado, here's Part Six of Interlude I: The Real Reason Charlie Acts Out in School ---

Scott was able to stay a few weeks, until the school year started up. He took Charlie to his first day of Junior Year, hugged him and told him that he’d visit at Thanksgiving. Scott rarely came down between September and December, when the season rush was the busiest, and never came after Halloween.

Charlie went through school the same as usual for a few months – he hung out with the gang of pot-smoking artists still, and skipped a ton of classes. However, a short while after Halloween, one of them mentioned they had been tagging walls with graffiti around the community. Curious, he asked if he could come along the next time. Vaughn, who went only by their last name, agreed and told Charlie to wait up for them after school.

Vaughn and Charlie went down to the back of the rec center where nobody would see them, Vaughn’s backpack half-filled with spray pain canisters. They showed Charlie how to use the spray paint, then let the other teen loose, telling him to “go crazy.” So Charlie did. Experimenting with different strokes and colors, Charlie crafted his first graffiti piece. While not up to Charlie’s usual standards of artwork, nobody could argue that it was not amazing and wonderful in its own right.

For the next couple months, Charlie and Vaughn would find various places to tag walls. The teens always chose shaded or hidden spots where they would be less likely to get caught. Each time, the duo would split up at the location and paint their own piece before regrouping. Every once in a while another one of the teens in their crowd would join them, though it was usually just Charlie and Vaughn.

This time, Charlie and Vaughn had chosen the side of the high school gymnasium that had an alley way between two school buildings. It was dimly lit and people rarely walked through, let alone glanced down the through-way. It was one of their better chosen locations, though they had the added risk of campus staff or security catching them. Vaughn told Charlie that it was part of the thrill.

Keeping with Charlie’s customary theme of his friends and the North Pole for this piece, Charlie had tagged the cinderblock wall with a masterfully created design, comprised of Judy and Lillian’s home. Lillian was sitting on an old wooden stool with a hand-sewn plush cushion, watching Judy instruct a young boy in the ways of properly brewed cocoa. The boy, of course, was a much younger Charlie from that winter before his thirteenth birthday, though his face was turned away and only his back shown to any viewers. To complete the piece of art, Charlie added his traditional signature in the top left corner, two interlocking ‘C’s in a barer farce of his father’s SC embroidery pattern.

Vaughn lumbered over contentedly as Charlie dug out his flip phone to snap a grainy picture of the painting. They squinted at the picture from under Charlie’s arm, then snorted. “Here,” they said, digging in their backpack. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll email the pic to you tonight.” In Vaughn’s hand was a brand new digital camera. Charlie had forgotten that Vaughn’s art specialty was photography.

“Thanks, Vaughn,” Charlie said gratefully. He didn’t want this piece to be left out of his collection at home. Even though his walls were mostly covered in art, and he had stacks of finished sketchbooks, Charlie never forgot anything he drew when it came to his home.

Vaughn took eight or ten shots of the wall before glancing through the photos, a satisfied look on their face. “Damn, Charlie. Are you sure tagging isn’t your thing? Because this is good, really, really good.”

Charlie shrugged, blushing. “I figure, if I’m going to put time, effort, and emotions into a piece, then I might as well make it worth all those components.”

“Well, well, well.” A sickeningly familiar and horrifying voice broke the comfortable silence that Vaughn and Charlie had lapsed into while staring at the warm scene on marked on cinderblock canvas. “I had been wondering when two of my best troublemakers were finally going to step another toe out of line.”

Vaughn and Charlie whirled around, bags half open, displaying the paint cans and the digital camera to Principal Newman. “Fuuuck,” Vaughn groaned, drawing out the curse. “My mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Oh, come now, Miss Nelson... I’m so much worse than that.” The principal smirked at the two teens.

“Yeah, at least she uses my pronouns correctly. You still use the female pronouns, which I have stated many times that I will not answer to.” Vaughn sneered at the woman.

“Until your legal paperwork states otherwise, Miss Nelson, you are, in fact, female and I will continue to refer to you as such.” Newman crossed her arms, raising a single eyebrow at them.

“Principal Newman,” Charlie defended. “That’s not fair to Vaughn. They get enough trouble from the jocks, and now they have to deal with uncooperative staff members, too?”

“Oh, Mr. Calvin. We have a lot to discuss. Do you really need to add somebody else’s issues to your own? Come with me, both of you. My office. We’re calling your parents. Is your father out of town, still, Mr. Calvin?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her perfectly polished heel and clicked off toward the main building, expecting the teens to follow her. As they didn’t have a death wish, they followed without much protest. They were going to get it either way, and talking back to the principal would only make their punishments worse.


End file.
